


(please don't take this as) anything but honest

by solarzenith



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Vague Location
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 08:44:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15945821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarzenith/pseuds/solarzenith
Summary: "Ryan would look over at him with pleading eyes and a plastic smile, and Shane would let his skull settle at the top of the headrest with a grey static running between his ears, and they wouldn’t speak about it."(non-traditional 3+1 times Shane almost kissed Ryan)





	(please don't take this as) anything but honest

_Shane’s shoes were soaked through, the dampness seeping into his socks and freezing his toes. He heard Ryan’s laugh bounce off his skin with the raindrops as he shook his shoe out, “Dude, how’d you miss that ocean-“_

_Shane felt a smirk pull at his lips, despite how annoyed he was with this ankle-deep puddle he’d stumbled into. Ryan was leaning into him, hand wrapping around his shoulder as he doubled over, blatantly mocking Shane’s plight._

_Shane’s head was buzzing, the bright-pink neon bar lights fogging his vision and keeping him from properly reacting. He barely registered Ryan pulling on his jacket sleeve as he stared down at his water-logged boots, “Hey, c’mon, get out of the puddle.”_

_Shane’s smirk widened as he surfaced to his senses and watched rain drip down Ryan’s smile-wide cheeks. Ryan was going to freak out._

_Shane took Ryan’s hand where it was wrapped in his jacket and tugged, effectively pulling Ryan off the curb and forcing him to balance himself by jumping into the puddle with him._

_Ryan squawked, just as Shane wanted, and pushed them both out into the road to escape the water, shaking his feet dry as he cursed at Shane._

_Shane was lit up, barely locking his knees to stay upright as Ryan stumbled around to dry off in the middle of the road._

_Shane’s gasping giggles were cut off as headlights yellowed their silhouettes, and Ryan clearly wasn’t paying attention to anything other than his precious shoes. Shane snapped into action and moved them again, bulldozing Ryan back through the puddle onto the curb to get them out of the street. Ryan only indignantly cursed him out again for a second before he realized Shane was actually helping him._

_Ryan stared wide-eyed as the jet-black mustang streaked past them, showing no sign of slowing down, and Shane was dumbstruck by Ryan’s flushed cheeks and rain-soaked hair plastered to his forehead._

_Ryan was looking past his shoulder at the road as Shane marveled at his eyelashes, cradling a few drops of water, reflecting the bright pinks and blues of the bar. He eyes roamed down to see Ryan’s chapped lips, trembling slightly in the wet cold._

_Ryan’s face was streaked and melting in the rain, and Shane felt that tether in his chest pull taught and strained between them, like it was about to snap if he didn’t move closer._

_Shane barely even inched forward before it snapped anyway, Ryan’s hands gripping tight at his arms and pushing him back a bit. He looked up from Ryan’s lips to see his bright, bewildered eyes, eyebrows knit down and that sheen disappearing from his now sober, blown pupils._

_Ryan was scared._

_“Shane,” Even through the distorted downpour he could see the mist clouding Ryan’s eyes. Then it turned into a snarl before Shane got a second to process it._

_Ryan was_ pissed _._

_“What the fuck?”_

_Shane felt his stomach bottom out, and that dreadful feeling sent him walking backwards into the puddle again. His freezing ass feet didn’t even register at this point._

_Ryan pulled back too, out of pure anger and confusion. Though his eyes were still watering._

_“What are you thinking?”_

He wasn’t thinking. Now he just wanted everything to go back to normal; he wanted to take it back. It wasn’t some big plan he’d been waiting to act on, he just felt it. That pull in his chest at watching Ryan laugh like nothing could hurt him. It was fucking stupid, he knew that.

He shoved his fingers through his hair as he ignored the surfacing memory for the third time this trip. He’d felt like he’d been drowning in it lately. It was always simmering under the surface, itching at his resolve and trying to get him to stumble.

Since that night, Ryan hadn’t indicated that he even remembered it, moving through the day as usual and treating Shane no different than before.

It caught Shane off-guard, as that memory was right there, every minute, at the forefront of his brain, highlighted in bright pink ink. Sometimes it would play past the end, his imagination taking over to lie to him; other times it stuttered, stuck on Ryan’s furious eyes, but it was never just _gone_.

Shane couldn’t get it to leave no matter how hard he tried, and he wondered if Ryan was even drunk enough to claim forgetfulness. They were hip to hip the whole night, elbow to elbow as they threw a couple shots back, and yet Shane was sober enough for the memory to etch in hard enough to hurt. How could Ryan think Shane would buy that shit? He just _forgot_? No, he denied.

And that sparked the fire crawling up his bones. They were so close before, so close that Shane felt comfortable enough to even lean in, and Ryan couldn’t talk to him about it? Ryan was half of the equation, what did he think Shane would do? Lie back? Resent him, mock him? Shane wouldn’t do that, not when he himself knew how horrible denial felt. Ryan had to realize that.

Shane looked over to Ryan humming and drumming on the steering wheel, seemingly ignorant to the stifling atmosphere settling in the car the longer Shane was cooped up in his head. Maybe he was imagining everything, all the tension and trepidation, and maybe his instincts were wrong that night.

But then Ryan would look over at him with pleading eyes and a plastic smile, and Shane would let his skull settle at the top of the headrest with a heavy heart and a grey static running between his ears, and they wouldn’t speak about it.

Instead, Ryan would casually rest his hand down on the center console, knuckles pressing into Shane’s thigh in a way he would never let happen on camera, and they would skip past it. Ryan would start a conversation about the last documentary he saw that Shane would only watch if Ryan sat him down and pressed play, or Shane would ask him about the restaurant options in the town they were barreling 70 towards.

Shane was content, knowing they were getting by, but his eyes were never watching what they seemed to be, and Ryan refused to ask about it; so they waded water, hand in hand, until the riptide came to tow them under.

 

They eventually pulled up to a gated driveway, with the lamplight dimly illuminating the address on the stone towers, and Shane was excited for the first time in weeks, “Holy shit, do we get to stay here?”

Ryan looked at the notes on his phone before leaning out the window and entering a code into the keypad, “Hell yeah, baby. It’s gonna be the worst.”

Shane smirked up at the mansion, windows fogged and a few broken, but otherwise the place was grandiose, nothing short of a mausoleum. The brick was dark blue with black mahogany roofing; there were four floors, all completely decked out with more than a few bedrooms and likely way too much wasted space for one family.

It had everything an allegedly haunted mansion should have, creepy gargoyles and climbing vines included, and Shane was absolutely stoked.

The interior, however, left a little to be desired.

Ryan started talking to the camera when Shane’s face dropped upon walking in, “He’s disappointed it’s not uglier in here. Did you want dusty skeletons and pictures with moving eyes?”

Shane looked around at the pristine marble accents and clean wooden tables, “This is just barbaric, who would ruin such a perfectly disgusting house?”

Ryan giggled and disagreed, “I’m much happier sleeping here now that I know it’s been kept up with. Though, I have a feeling the basement will be everything you want it to be, big guy.”

Shane went around poking antiques that were likely just replicas that held no spiritual value, looking for anything that was left behind in the clean up, “Why’s that?”

“Man, you really don’t read the briefings do you.”

Shane turned his camera to shine a light on Ryan’s white smile, “Why would I do that? I know how you love tellin’ ghost stories.”

Ryan smiled down to the right, almost indignant but also barely bashful, and Shane really hadn’t lost his mojo, had he? Thinking that gave him ugly flashbacks to _Austin Powers_ and he decided to tune back in to Ryan.

“The basement is the hotspot, the nest, where the Harvey’s did all their rituals.”

Shane’s interest was reborn as he frantically looked around for a set of stairs, “Oh hell yeah, let’s get down there. Hope they left the bones for us.”

Ryan stilled him with a pull on his jacket, and Shane didn’t think about pink lights at all, “We need to get the filming part out of the way first, don’t act like you don’t know the routine.”

Shane felt his features fall into a flat line as Mark and Ryan started setting up cameras in front of the long, burgundy couch sitting alone at the center of the high-ceilinged living room. Whoever was running this place really wasn’t trying hard enough to scare the guests. Just as he thought it, Ryan looked up towards the chandelier blanketed in black and watched him get caught. Ryan was such an easy catch that it was almost endearing.

Shane walked up and pulled him out of it with easy conversation, as he’d gotten used to doing on their show. He kept Ryan’s eyes on him instead of the dark corners, and Shane knew Ryan was grateful by the small smiles he was handing out.

Before too long, Ryan sat them down, knee to knee on the giant fancy couch, and told his tale.

“The Harvey’s were cultists, pagan worshippers that sacrificed animals, and once a human, to keep their business afloat-”

At this point, most of what Ryan was saying was going to be overlapped with his voice-over, but Shane still had to get the story down and give a few reactions to make things interesting, “Were they, by chance, interior decorators? I’m loving this lonely couch vibe. Really ties the empty room together.”

Ryan smiled down at his notes, “No, actually they were just architects. They were pretty popular in town, though, and I’m sure they assumed it was all thanks to their good intentions.”

Shane looked up at the tall ceiling, and noticed Ryan doing so in tandem, “They build this place, then?”

Ryan nodded mutely as his gaze got caught on the darkness again, and Shane had to wonder what he saw. To pull him back Shane cupped his mouth and yelled up to the black, “Bad call on this one, Susan! What if you wanted to put a fan up, huh?”

Ryan broke out of his trance to slap his hand down on the couch with a wheeze, “Dude, her name’s not Susan, it’s Heather. Don’t start pissing them off so early.”

“Hey, I’m just callin’ it like I see it. This ceiling is a fucking optical illusion, light doesn’t even reach the top. You think there is a top? _Ryan_ , what if it’s a portal-”

“Shane, we were just outside, there’s a top.”

Shane leaned back and linked his fingers over his stomach with a sigh, “Alright well, that’s no fun and now I’m bored so, please, continue with your murder story.”

Ryan raised his eyebrow and ignored him to do just that, “So that one human sacrifice was the nail in the coffin for the Harvey’s, so to speak. The man they burned in the basement was named Gilbert Rose-”

Shane shot up in his seat, “Gilbert Rose?! That’s adorable, dude.”

“Shut up, it was Gilbert Rosend, let me fuckin’ finish this.”

Shane put his hands up in surrender with a smirk on his lips. He loved making Ryan work for this shit, despite the fact that most of it was going to be nixed in the final cut anyway.

Ryan picked back up, “Rosend was their antagonist, always dragging their name through the mud. I couldn’t find why he was so against the business, but I would assume he knew they were doing some shady shit. Not just the sacrificing stuff, but under-the-table dealings. Plus, plenty of bad buildings went up in their name just to make a quick buck.”

“So why did they have such a good rep, then? Why did people like them?”

Ryan shrugged, “Who knows man, some people get the wool pulled over their eyes pretty easily.”

Shane made a face into the camera, and Ryan smacked him on the forearm ‘cause they both knew exactly what he was thinking of. He smiled back at Ryan, who was tisking at him for making things political, when a glass crystal from the chandelier dropped and shattered on the floor in front of them.

Shane tensed up as Ryan squaked and jumped over to him, harshly grabbing his arm and pulling his body against Ryan’s chest as a guard. Ryan was trembling where his fingers dug into the fabric pulled taught against Shane’s back.

They didn’t move for a few seconds before Ryan quietly, gravely, wondered, “What the fuck?”

Shane gave it a second as Ryan let the fear build in his core, bracing himself as Ryan yelped, again, “What the fuck?!”

Shane winced and leaned his head away, “Dude, my eardrum-”

He cut himself off as Ryan’s breathing started coming shorter, more terse and broken, puffing against his neck where Ryan was hiding behind him. Shane could feel Ryan’s shaking hands where his knuckles were dug into his back.

Ryan was barely taking in air and yet he was babbling just to fill the silence, as if an actual ghost would appreciate that at all. Maybe annoying it was the whole tactic, get it to go away.

Shane turned, slowly so that Ryan wouldn’t scare easy, and took the man’s wrists in his fingers.

“Ryan, chill, it’s okay-”

Ryan was still babbling, nonsense questions that meant nothing now that the air was still and they were out of harm's way. Shane couldn’t even try to reason with him, and doing that just served to irritate him more anyway, so Shane took another route.

He gripped his wrists tighter, giving Ryan something to pinpoint and tether to, and tried to reach his eyes, “Stop, look at me. You’re not hurt, it’s fine, look at me-”

Ryan slowly pulled away from the ceiling and looked up at him, gaze catching hold of his, and they were harshly dropped back in that puddle on the side of the road.

Pink and blue lights flashed around his vision, he watched the rain streaking down Ryan’s jaw and then drying again under the chandeliers shadow-cast. He was flickering between moments, unable to spot the difference.

Ryan was an inch away, open and drowning, and all Shane had to do was pull. Pull him in by the back of his neck, bring Ryan’s lips up to his, and they’d finally meet in the middle.

Then Shane had another flash to the past when Ryan’s sunken, searching eyes shifted into a scowl as he yanked himself away. Again. Shane spotted the difference that time, though. He didn’t push, didn’t follow that tugging strain in his chest, and Ryan was evidently grateful for it.

Ryan shook himself free of the atmosphere they’d been held in and moved back to his side of the couch with jittery hands, “I’m good, Jesus- is this thing gonna fall?”

Like it never even happened.

Shane was shut down, unwilling to respond and still working through the slush in his head. Ryan was unperturbed by his frozen stature, pushing forward with his fear despite his distant friend, “We gotta get out from under this thing, right?”

Shane wondered how many questions Ryan was going to ask without an answer before he started to get suspicious of the silence. Clearly that was a dumb thing to consider, because Ryan could survive having a conversation with himself for at least 7 minutes, and Shane was fully aware of that. Ryan proved him correct once again.

“Should we restart filming in a different part of the house? Or just… risk it?”

Shane was waiting for Mark to get sick of Ryan talking to the air so that _someone_ could answer this babbling man. It wasn’t going to be Shane, not with his heart lodged in his throat the way it was; he’d probably say something he shouldn’t.

Mark finally ended it when Shane showed no signs of consciousness, “I think we’ve got enough footage for the intro, we can just move on if you want?”

Ryan nodded and shook himself up a little bit. He seemed to think he had a thin film of paranormal goo settling over him the longer he stayed unmoving in one spot. Shane broke the illusion, as usual, by standing up, fisting his hands in his pockets, and making his way straight out of the living room.

Shane imagined Ryan and Mark looking at each other with a ‘what the hell?’ type of face behind his back as he made his way through the halls with no destination in mind. Really, his goal was to get lost. At least then he’d be alone.

Ryan was first to catch up, tugging his jacket in that annoying way again, and forcing Shane to turn to him. Shane noticed Mark had the camera facing away from them for the first time that night.

Ryan was close, like it wasn’t something he was disgusted by anymore, and Shane took that as his cue to put some space between them.

Ryan’s eyebrows scrunched together as he asked, “Dude, what’s the problem? Are you good?”

Shane was stupefied, absolutely fucking stunned. Ryan was going to deny it? Again? Shane looked over to Mark and when he did the man turned away, giving them some semblance of privacy. Shane was almost grateful.

His heart was still not sitting right in his chest, so he just let it rattle, “Are you fucking with me? Like, are you going to ignore it again? It’s me, dude. What do you think-”

Ryan cut him off to end it before Shane went too far, “I’m not doing anything, I just got freaked out. What’s with you, man?”

Shane nodded slowly, looking to the ceiling with bottled fire making a home in his stomach. Ryan was either delusional, or actually fucking terrified of him, them, something. Now wasn’t quite the time to get that specific answer out of him.

Shane settled the line of his shoulders in resignation, “Right.”

Ryan shook his head, “Right what?”

Shane tried to put on a fake face, “Nothing, let’s just get downstairs. I’m ready to fucking drown in sacrificial blood.”

Ryan gave him a final once over, brow furrowed and not quite content, “Well, you’re going to be sorely disappointed. No one’s sacrificed anything down there in 200 years. I’m sure the pools are well dry by now.”

Shane sighed, “Well, this is just going to continue to be a bad night then, huh.”

 

He was starting to feel guilty about it, but this was most definitely going to be a wasted episode. He couldn’t even get himself to be excited over the basement.

They were making their way down the creaky stairwell, cobwebs catching in their hair with skittering sounds coming from the bottom, and he was just washed-out. Ryan was rightfully freaked by it all, and Shane would have been reveling in it in another circumstance, but his head was too hollow.

He was listening, though, as Ryan hit the bottom step and spoke up behind himself, “The Harvey’s were convinced they were being haunted by Rosend, since they’d never sacrificed a human before.”

Shane hummed as he got down there and looked around. The basement was trashed, and he wondered if it was all for show before he turned left and caught sight of the ritual altar.

Shane was held cold in his movements as the reality in front of him settled in. He could only imagine what Ryan was feeling.

‘Punished for our sins’ was streaked in a red arc above the wooden table, leaking down the wall and mixing with the dried blood pooled around two small grey bowls. The altar held fully melted candles and a skull with a broken eye socket. The skull was stuffed with wilted flowers, and Shane  mindlessly mocked the tardy apology.

Ryan spoke up from behind him, and just when did Ryan hide himself back there?

“Jesus Christ, dude.”

Shane responded airily, still caught in headlights, “Yeah, this is…”

“Horrifying.”

“Depressing.”

Shane moved forward to get a closer shot as Ryan put more space between him and the altar, “Don’t get too close, dude, they say people feel extreme emotional turmoil by the altar. Sudden anguish and anger, lashing out.”

Shane felt nothing special affect him as he placed his camera in eyeline of the skull, “You know people could just be lying.”

Ryan sighed, “We’ve been over this, if a decent amount of people claim the same thing, all on separate occasions, how could they all be collectively lying?”

Shane was tired and not even that invested in the debate after everything he had pulsing through his head, “Okay.”

He could tell Ryan was getting sick of his empty conversation, but he couldn’t get himself to contribute much else. He was, at least, finally interested in something.

He resisted the urge to poke and prod, “What’s with these flowers? Ya killed him, can’t make it better with petals.”

Ryan was walking around the rest of the basement, hopefully trying to get a couple different angles of the shot, but likely just moving away out of discomfort, “They’re not from the Harveys, visitors bring flowers to apologize for the mistreatment.”

“Surprised you didn’t bring anything for it, so he wouldn’t skin us in our sleep.”

“It’s not that kind of haunting. The Harveys thought it was a vengeful spirit, but they really just went insane. They may have been haunted by something, but more likely they just had a guilty conscious. Now, though, people claim they see the Harveys roaming the halls, still lost and anxious.”

“So Mr. Gilbert isn’t upset?”

Ryan came back to the altar to look at the skull after his listless shuffling failed to release him from the haunted area, “I’m sure he was, but who knows. Maybe all the anger and sorrow felt over here is just his leftover spirit. Or maybe it's the Harvey’s.”

Shane bumped their shoulders together, “You feelin’ murderous?”

Ryan looked up at him, eyes bright in the dark, “Nah. Maybe it’s content today.”

Shane was suddenly aware of it all again as they caught eye contact, Ryan playing innocent and leaving Shane to grovel, and that hollowness in his chest was back, “Yeah, maybe.”

Ryan assuredly noticed the shift popping back like ping pong, if his deflection was anything to go by, but he deflected anyway, “Well, let’s fire up the spirit box, yeah?”

Shane nodded and settled them in the center of the basement where four empty chairs sat in a ring. Shane imagined the floor they circled was once defaced with chalk markings that were lost to time by now, but the imagery was ominous enough.

Ryan sat across from him as they went through the motions, talking to static and staring at the molded ceiling. Ryan was carrying the conversation as Shane kept running circles in his head. He wasn’t going to sleep tonight. At least that’d finally make two of them.

 

Ryan couldn’t get himself to sleep in the giant, spacious, inviting living room, since the chandelier was suddenly scarier than ghosts, so they were stuck here.

Shane barely had room to move, having scraped his elbow on the staircase more than twice already, “How is this better than the living room, again?”

Ryan was closely pressed against him, side to side, as they had little room in the basement to work with. Most of the space was taken by the altar and the ritual circle, so they had to cozy up in the corner. Shane was sure this had to be the worse option, unstable chandelier or not.

“I can’t sleep under that chandelier man, and none of the other locations are very ripe with activity. No one has ever claimed seeing anything in the bedrooms, or the kitchen. We can either waste a night of potential footage, or we can suffer through.”

“Well, I guess I don’t get to vote then.”

Ryan huffily rolled over, facing away from him and instead staring the altar in the face, “I know your vote.”

Shane rolled with him, unwilling to be nose-deep in the crumbling wood of the staircase, and spoke to the back of Ryan’s head, “I could just go upstairs, you know, this is almost unbearable. I’m used to being too long, but too wide? Can’t fuckin’ move my elbows, man.”

Ryan stilled his fidgeting, and Shane thought for a second he might have seen something in the dark until he spoke, “You’d leave?”

Shane felt the pressure in his chest get heavier. He was hurting just being this close to Ryan, and he thought that if he could, he _would_ leave. He couldn’t get himself out of the funk he’d sunk into earlier, and Ryan _had_ to notice. And yet, he said nothing, continued to ignore it as if Shane wasn’t Shane, as if they weren’t _them_.

They should have been able to get through this, one way or the other, but Ryan was acting like they couldn’t even survive the opening credits. Instead he held them in this limbo, full stop, unwilling to budge no matter how badly Shane needed them to move.

He’d taken too long to answer the question.

Ryan reactively flipped himself back over to face him, seemingly unaware of the distance he was closing in the movement. They were knee to knee through their sleeping bags and Shane had to fully press his back against the staircase just to get an inch of breathing room.

Ryan was unaffected, instead open and imploring when he asked, “Would you leave?”

Shane was caught in the brights, stuck trying to swallow his words as Ryan cornered him against the wall.

Of course Shane wouldn’t leave, he’d never leave Ryan no matter what was going on with them, he just couldn’t stand the frozen feeling in his gut right now. He didn’t know how to say that without having to explain it, and he wasn’t in the mood to be shut down for, what, the third time?

Ryan wouldn’t get the hint, though. He was way too close and Shane started flickering again with the look in Ryan’s eyes. There had to be less than three inches between their noses, and Ryan was only concerned about being left alone.

Shane was sick of being brought back to that moment. He was sick of feeling and thinking and _hoping_ that he could have something Ryan wasn’t giving. He had to close his eyes just to cut the tether tied around his stomach.

He hotly placed his palm flat against the center of Ryan’s chest and pushed, “I hate you for this.”

Ryan didn’t get it, even with the electric space Shane forced between them, but seemed relieved by the answer anway, “Dude, we slept in Waverly, I think you’ll live.”

Shane just pulled his hand back into his sleeping bag, unable to voice how off-base Ryan was. He was still sinking and his head was still swimming, stuck drowning in that puddle again.

There was only one way to surface, so Shane turned over, faced the wall, and passed out.

 

He hoped to wake to a new mood, but the body pressed against his front, toe to tip, gave him doubts about the potential of the day.

There was no way Ryan was sleeping, right? That small, scared man rarely managed to catch a few hours of rest on location, let alone slept in past Shane. It was even more unlikely in the circumstance they were in now, turned facing a bloody altar and a ritual circle with the only window in the basement open and streaming sunlight over the whole scene.

Also, Shane got shit sleep specifically because Ryan was freaking out all night. It was logically impossible Ryan was fast asleep, then, which made reality all that much worse.

Ryan was really just being a dick now. He wasn’t playing naive anymore, he was just outright fucking with Shane. If he was so scared to face this shit, he shouldn’t be guilting Shane for thinking it was something more when he clearly had just as much at stake.

Shane knew there was something that night, something he wasn’t remembering. He remembered Ryan’s shaking hands holding him back by his shoulders. He remembered the lights, the flooding rain, and Ryan’s bright eyes.

What he hadn’t remembered was Ryan looking at his lips or how his hands flexed into the meat where they gripped his arms. He didn’t remember Ryan swaying forward with him before he snapped back on instinct, flustered and scared. He was so stuck on Ryan’s eyes that everything else fell to the wayside.

Shane wondered just what Ryan remembered from that night. Maybe they were both missing pieces; maybe they were stepping around each other for the wrong reasons.

Despite all that, he was still wrapped around a warm body, and there was no way to get out clean.

Since they were already here, thanks to Ryan, Shane thought he’d push his luck. He tightened his arm where it was wrapped around Ryan’s torso, fingers digging into the spaces between his ribs, and tugged him flush against his chest.

Ryan was a lightning strike in his hands.

He yelped and bolted to his feet, leaving Shane’s arm to smack solid on the concrete. Shane rolled onto his stomach with a groan as the shock reverberated up his bones, and Ryan must have perceived that as a sign of waking up.

“Wake and bake, dude.”

_How the hell did he think that was just a sleep response?_

Shane wanted to curl into himself, pull the sleeping bag over his head, and just sink. He wanted to scream and let his chest cave in. He wanted to shake that tiny man until the truth fell out.

Instead, he gave his own, hoping Ryan would mirror him, “You're fucking impossible.”

Well, that wasn't quite what he’d wanted to say, but his throbbing, pulsing limp-limb was making him a bit irritable. He sat up, hair a rats nest living on his head, and held his arm securely against his chest.

Ryan looked down at him with something split in his features, as if he was stuck, “Yeah, well…”

_What the fuck did that mean?_

Shane looked up to him with squinted eyes, idly rubbing his elbow as he waited for Ryan to break open. Instead he had to grab a hammer and do it himself, “Whatever, let's just leave.”

Ryan was finally letting some sun leak through the cracks in his barrier, sullen eyes giving him away, “Sure, Shane.”

 _There it was_ , something real.

Shane kept his arm plastered to his chest but put his painless hand out flat to stop him, “Whoa, whoa, what’s that look for?”

Ryan got defensive and clammed back up immediately, shaking his head and throwing his corduroy jacket over his shoulder as he began packing things up. Shane felt that anger start to boil in his stomach again, but he thought now was the time to contain it and break this course they were on.

“Alright, turn off the camera, Bergara.”

Ryan snapped his wide eyes back with fear and Shane had to raise his eyebrows instead of letting his chest unravel. Fear was irrational at this point, and it just made Shane more worked up; he didn't understand the reason for it.

Shane waited patiently as Ryan made his way toward the tripod and metaphorically flipped the switch. They were stuck in a bubble now, invisible to anyone but them, and the air was somehow heavier than it had been each time before this.

Ryan fidgeted in the fog, “Why’d you make me-”

“You remember that night?”

Shane saw the question cut right through to Ryan’s heart, but he turned his eyes to the right like he was annoyed by it anyway. Suddenly Ryan’s hackles were up again and Shane wasn’t even going to give him time to build the wall.

“On the curb, outside the bar, you remember?”

Ryan started to shake his head with a pleading whisper of Shane’s name, and yet Shane barreled through it, stomping on the budding excuses like grass peeking through the concrete.

“Let me know if I’ve got something wrong,” He mumbled as he tapped against his temple.

Ryan just said his name again, as if speaking anything else would cause a flood, and Shane let it fuel him, let it add to this tumbling boulder in his chest picking up speed.

He was quiet, “I remember my shoes were soaked.”

He looked up and caught Ryan’s eyes again, letting the rest fall out and land, finally, in the open, “I remember your face, and the pink lights, and how _pissed_ you were.”

“I wasn’t-”

“And I remember _us_. Both of us. Equal footing. Same speed. It was both of us, so stop acting like it was just me, or like the idea repulses you, because it didn’t the first time.”

“Shane, I didn’t mean to…”

Shane watched him as his eyes fell flat, losing the thought he was attempting to voice. When he didn’t try to pick it back up again, Shane nodded, assuming the conversation was over.

He stood up, gathered what he could before Ryan could make a sound against it, and made his way back up the stairs with nothing left to weigh him down.

 

Shane grabbed the aux as Ryan peeled them out and away from the closing gate. He put on something fast an abrasive, anything that kept his thoughts from seeping through the cracks between basslines.

Ryan still hadn't said anything, not even an inconsequential comment on the place or their sleepless stay. The solemn thoughtfulness radiating off of him in dark blue waves was starting to make Shane’s knee bounce. He was waiting for the sky to break.

It did just that as the music cut out and Shane was forced to pick his head up and watch Ryan pull them to the side of the road. They weren't even a mile away from the mansion, and not as close to a clean shower as Shane would like to be.

Shane waited for Ryan to speak up, but instead he just sat there, staring out the windshield with his knuckles pulled white around the steering wheel.

Shane’s ears were flooding, he couldn't take it, “Ryan…”

Ryan closed his eyes and nodded, then looked up again, “Just- I'm working on it, hold on.”

Shane nodded and pulled a knee up to his chest, placing his chin on the top of it. He worried for a second that this wasn't going to be the talk he wanted. He didn't want the clock turned back before that night. Before then he was waiting on a live wire, afraid to move the wrong way, now he was weightless. He wasn't going to take his admission back just because Ryan was scared to step forward with him.

He was building this defense in his chest, waiting for Ryan to ask him to plaster on a smile and lie, when Ryan’s fingertips skid across his wrist, eventually finding their place between the webbing of his fingers.

Shane kept his eyes on their hands as Ryan finally spoke up.

“I’m sorry.”

Shane had to be honest, after the time it took, he'd expected more to come out. He drew his eyebrows together in confusion and went to look up at Ryan, but the tug on his fingers kept his gaze trained forward.

Ryan continued, “I mean, uh, I didn't mean to make you feel like I wasn't on board. I was just scared.”

Shane firmly rubbed his thumb back and forth across Ryan’s pinky, “I knew you were, that's why I kept trying. So that you'd know I was with you. But you _still_ just...”

Ryan knew what he was referring to, and Shane didn't feel like reliving the memories of his heart sinking like lead when Ryan kept pulling away, so he let it fall flat.

Ryan nodded like he got it and kept on, “I know, I just, didn't think it'd be so easy. I still don't think it will be.”

Shane flipped his hand over to finally get a good grip on Ryan’s, palm to palm, while he asked, “It's not me, right? Not scared of me?”

Ryan’s mouth twisted, “It’s everything. Don't wanna fuck us up, but I don't wanna sit on my hands either. I don't care what people will say but really, what if I do? What do I know?”

Shane brought Ryan's hand into his lap once he noticed Ryan starting to nervously fidget, “We don't have to be public, at least not right away, if that'll make it easier. It doesn’t have to be a big thing. It’s just us.”

Ryan's other hand started scratching at his jeans, and Shane could sense the anxiety building in the man's core. Maybe baby steps were a good way to go.

Shane finally looked up to catch Ryan's eyes, as that was one of the two ways Shane knew how to ground him, “Let's worry about this later, yeah?”

Ryan gave him the most genuine smile Shane had seen on him in weeks. It was soft orange sunlight and too-long sweatshirt sleeves; it was being wrapped in a warm blanket in the freezing kitchen at midnight. It was a comfort they alone could share, and Shane didn't remember missing it that much until he saw it again.

He squeezed his fingers where they were interlocked and gave it right back.

 

Their walk through the dim hotel hallways was a balm to Shane's burning heart. He was lit up from the inside out, reveling in the feeling of mutuality. Ryan was a beacon leading him to paradise, and Shane had to keep from reaching out, pulling him in, and muddying the fantasy.

Shane drifted into their room behind Ryan, tossing the pile of bags he had accumulated from filming against the right wall. He deflated with the weight finally lifted and turned to close the door behind them.

It clicked shut, and as he turned back, Ryan moved into his space, bracing his arms against the door and bracketing Shane in.

Shane’s knees could have given out at the sight of it, at the momentum with which he moved. But then Ryan went soft and pliant, hands firmly pressing into his chest and wrapping around to his shoulder blades.

It wasn't quite a hug, as Ryan still had his eyes locked on his own, but it was only just shy of one at the same time. The closeness and comfort of a hug soaked through his jacket and threatened to subdue his drumming heart, but the fire in Ryan's eyes kept him watching.

Ryan pulled him from his thoughts with a soft, silent 'hey’ and Shane was overloaded. Love gushed through his chest as lightning started to build in his fingertips. He had to ground them before they discharged, so he settled them against each side of Ryan's jaw.

Ryan came alive under his touch, like he could feel the storm in Shane's hands, and tightened his grip where he was wrapped around Shane's middle, but it wasn't enough. Shane didn't want to burst their bubble of serenity, but he had to get closer.

He was scared, now being on his fourth attempt, that Ryan would pull away again. He'd pull them apart and leave this gaping hole in Shane's middle that couldn't be filled by anyone else. But then Shane looked again, looked at the conviction settled in Ryan's gaze, and took the plunge, utterly fearless.

His fingers skid to the back of Ryan’s neck as he moved in. Ryan met him in the middle, surging up and pulling him down with his new grip on Shane’s shoulders. It wasn’t fireworks, but it was bright pink. Shane saw it light up behind his eyelids as Ryan climbed closer.

Ryan made a little noise against his lips and it made his hold turn liquid, he sunk into every part of Ryan that he could fit. Then he went solid again and his fingers flexed where they were stuck to Ryan’s neck. That surgence made Ryan open up and suck in air, and Shane didn't let him pull away. He just held them right there, nose to cheek, breathing with their lungs on fire.

Ryan dipped down and shoved his face into Shane’s collar, so Shane had to move his arms down the front of Ryan’s chest to where he settled on his waist.

Hot breath hit Shane’s neck as Ryan mumbled something into his hiding hole. Shane smirked at that idea and squeezed Ryan closer from where his fingertips touched at the small of his back.

“What’d you say, lil’ guy?”

Ryan pulled back, “I said you smell like rancid cement.”

Shane schooled his features as he nodded, “Oh alright, cool.”

There was a pause, then he snapped and pulled Ryan back in, shoving his nose into the front of his hoodie and holding him in that embrace. Ryan freaked and started pushing back on him to pull them apart, barely wiggling out just to get dragged back in.

Their sunshine laughter soaked the hotel room, wrapping them in something warm and palpable. Together, stuck like sap, they slipped down the wall and sat against the door with bright eyes and soaring hearts.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!! leave me your thoughts!  
> also, I made a spotify playlist for this fic because spotify is everything to me? pls follow it if you want!  
> [here's the link!](https://open.spotify.com/user/sm0kk1yz9ocfzs8h4k3caubf9/playlist/1xibxOwySnIhqaEJIXTq6h?si=0c_jDjHhRImdQNecZM6YWA)  
> (I didn't put everything I wanted to on this playlist as I had a genre quota to hit, but let me know if you want more because even the title of this fic is from a song that's not on the playlist lol. idk I love playlists literally just ask for one and I'll make one lol)


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